It Shall Fall
by planetofmars
Summary: Spencer has a choice to make: leave his home, or lose Derek.


**Title:** It Shall Fall

**Rating:** General

**Pairing:** Morgan/Reid

**Summary:** Spencer has a choice to make: leaving his home, or Derek.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Criminal Minds, nor any of these characters.

**A/N:** Just a little piece to knock my brain lose from my other stories, and it's fluffy as hell towards the end; it couldn't be helped -_-

_**It Shall Fall**_

There wasn't a moment when he didn't miss him terribly. A moment did not pass where that luminous grin did not cross his mind, and a night did not drown to day where those perfect teeth did not linger in his dreams. The feeling, it brought a euphoric sense about him, but the euphoria never lasted more than a few minutes at a time before vanishing into hopelessness and regret. The sense of being lost in ones mind was bitter agony, and Spencer feared it would never leave him. The fear of leaving his home was far too great to even allow fond memories to dwell peacefully.

The air was thick; suffocating. The cold he meets as his slender fingers splay across the window of his living room is almost numbing, in a sense. This place, his sanctuary at one time, was now his prison. The fear, the anxiety and loneliness was all consuming, and he often felt restless in this state of mind, slumped in his old rocking chair. This was no way to live, he understood, but could not think to face the outside world anymore.

He simply could not do it.

Derek hated sitting through meetings. For all it was worth, he knew he wasn't the same, and everyone else knew it—too. The ache was deep; unsettling, and often drove him to distraction. Often, his fingers itched to reach for his phone during inappropriate times, but it couldn't be helped. All he could do was think of Spencer, and how things could have been different.

Could _be_ different.

The time was running constantly, getting away from him at every opportunity. Spencer's illness had now become his own, and it was a terrifying place to be; a lonely place. Derek was emotionally isolated, only speaking when spoken to. The others, they worried, but said nothing; nothing they could say would break him of this mind numbing state. The grimace upon his face was now a permanent fixture, and he appeared odd without it. There was no smile to be had.

Truly, it was a sad sight to behold.

A relapse had occurred, but no drug had enter through Spencer's body. A relapse of fear had occurred, and he found himself not able to cope this time. The outside world appeared a dangerous place, and the settings of his books exceeded any real beauty. Spencer hated how Tobias had once again slipped under his skin so deeply. The palpitations of his racing heart only grew in intensity as he neared his front door.

Beyond that door, nothing was safe, and it was a horrifying concept to be had. The dreams, the memories, they were no better. A scream, a cry, the only noise to be heard from his bedroom in the middle of the night. The sweat that would cool against his skin teased and tormented him. The urge to shoot up was not nearly as great as the urge to never leave, and never leave, he did.

Spencer left his work and all of his relationships behind. The food he needed to stay alive was delivered, any specialties were sent for, and he sustained his way of life by reading over case files for detectives who had been turned away. Almost everything was kept at a distance, and Spencer much preferred it that way, but Derek was never gone. A change of locks were of no use, Derek usually found a new set that would match, and once even kicked down his door to enter. Derek never smiled, not anymore.

And it was all his fault.

The sun was setting, and Spencer knew Derek would arrive soon, and so he crept upstairs. The sound of keys unlocking the door, breaching the safety net he had sewn for himself, was too much. Once upon a time, they had been perfect for each other. That, however, was not the case now. Now, they only served to torture each other. Derek with his talk of the outside world, and Spencer, with his refusal to join said world...to grasp what he was doing to himself.

The feel of his bed brings a sense of comfort. The familiar low setting of his ceiling was much appreciated, and almost brought a sense of contentment. The front door opens with deliberation, and closes with much determination; each step towards his room is steady and forceful. Derek was a force beyond his control, and knew as much. Derek was also gentle, and it was that gentleness that had ultimately led him to fail so many times with Spencer.

"Spence."

"Yes?"

"Have you moved at all, today?"

"Yes."

"Have you had anything to eat all day?"

Spencer pauses, face thoughtful. "I don't remember."

"What do you remember?"

Spencer lets out a frustrated sigh, unamused at this routine. "I remember that today is Tuesday, the third. I remember waking up at eight this morning, and drinking orange juice. I showered a little after noon, and read a detailed series on world religion three times, anything else?"

Derek peered down at him, his snippy attitude had not flown over his head, but Derek chose to ignore it in favor of progressing. "What month is it?"

"What?"

"What month is it, Spencer?"

"August, summer's almost over."

"Wrong. It's October, and fall is already here."

Spencer stared stubbornly at Derek before shrugging him off; it had been a year and a half since this had all started. "I forgot," he said.

"Obviously," Derek chides.

"Why are you being so mean, tonight?" Spencer inquires, and usually it is enough to soften Derek.

"Because I'm tired of you," he says, and it catches Spencer off guard, and most of all, it hurts.

Spencer sits up, legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees. He takes in Derek's harsh gaze, the way his arms are crossed defensively over his chest, and feet spread apart. This is not his usual disposition, Spencer notes, and a serge of panic rears its ugly head. Derek, it would seem, had finally had enough. Spencer swung his legs over the edge of his bed, feet planting firmly onto the floor. With his hands draped over his body in an awkward and vulnerable manner, Spencer hoped to quell Derek's resolve.

"Are you going to leave me?" And it is manipulation at its finest. Such an ugly creature he had become in his solitude, desperate and clinging.

"I'm asking you to chose," Derek spoke, voice even.

"Chose? Chose between what?" Spencer questions, head tilting towards the side, hand reaching for Derek, but the other man is quick, deflecting his touch.

"I want you to chose between me or your fears," Derek confirms what Spencer had dreaded most.

A crease forms at the center of Spencer's brow. "I won't leave this house, Derek. I can't."

"Then you've made your choice."

There is no preparing to leave, he just does it. Derek's breath comes out in short little huffs, nothing has ever ached so much. 'This is the right thing,' he tells himself for the hundredth time, 'the right choice.' Derek couldn't do this anymore, he was going to waste away watching Spencer deteriorate ever so slowly. That doesn't make his decision any easier, however, it aches far too deep.

Derek didn't want to be home, he didn't want to be anywhere; lost to both time and space. Clooney looks at him with large eyes, and Derek pets him affectionately in return. The television blares loudly, but Derek doesn't pay mind to what is playing. Spencer had made his choice, he recalled, and it wasn't him. The failure he felt was insurmountable.

Spencer stared almost bewilderingly at his dreaded front door. The mahogany wood was carved into intricately square patterns; they were intended to be appeasing, but Spencer merely found them revolting. Derek had walked out that door what felt an eternity ago, but Spencer rationalized it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes at most. The pain, it ached deeply, and his heart still raced. Derek couldn't be gone.

He was the only thing he had left.

Spencer attempted to calm himself, but to no avail. The fear of losing Derek was prominent over every other emotion; every fast paced thought. The shaking had started off slowly, but was evident now, his hands could not be controlled, and any minute now he felt as though he would pass out. Derek could not be gone, he had not made the wrong choice! Derek was simply asking too much from him, or was it the other way around? Of course, Spencer reasoned, it was him who had pushed and pulled, and expected him to still be there.

Spencer had made the wrong choice, that much was evident. The truth, he figured, was that he feared more than leaving his house. Spencer feared losing Derek over everything else, and he knew that now with a startling realization as he headed towards that god awful door. The time ticked away in his mind, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, till he simply couldn't take it anymore. With a scream that could wake the entire neighborhood, he threw open the door, stepping out momentarily before sprinting towards his car.

Derek was walking into his kitchen when he saw lights flash across the wall above his refrigerator, and he turned to look through the window. When he saw Spencer's car pull into the drive way, he nearly dropped the glass of water in his hand. Derek moved quickly to open his front door, stepping outside he saw Spencer nearly throw himself from his vehicle with a wild abandon he had never witnessed before. Derek increased his pace to meet him, Spencer caught his eye, muttering how he had made the wrong choice. Derek threw his hands around the other man, pulling him tightly to his person, a sense of relief flooding over him.

"I made the wrong choice. I'm sorry, Derek," Spencer mumbled against his shoulder, the scent of his hair flooding Derek's nostrils.

Derek didn't care, he truly didn't care, because he had him now. Spencer was out of his self induced confinement, and most importantly, he was here with him. Derek never let him go as they approached the door to his home before he stopped them both, pressing Spencer closer to him. "Look at me," Derek says, and Spencer does as asked. Those eyes, soft and brown, were beautiful..._mesmerizing_.

"You will go inside, and tomorrow, when you're good and ready, you will leave, do you hear me?" he pressed, face serious as Spencer looked at him meaningfully.

"Yes," he replied, and nothing besides kissing him made Derek happier.

"And when you leave, you will not go home and stay there forever," Derek added.

"Yes, Derek, I won't. Please, let's just go inside," Spencer begged, and Derek couldn't deny him that, after all the suffering they had both been through, he simply couldn't do it.

The wildness that use to plague his eyes, the confusion and fear were drained from his face, and Derek could only tangle his fingers through the curl of his hair. Their beginning had been rough around the edges, but overall sweet. With time, they had grown comfortable with the idea that they were together, but Spencer began to break, piece by piece, and Derek hadn't been quick enough to glue him back together. A nightmare had set this off, a nightmare Spencer still hadn't confided in him. That was then, and this was now, and Derek would contemplate their possible struggles later.

Spencer appeared weary, and all he wanted to do was to make him feel loved again. Their relationship had taken an obvious strain, their playful banter eliminated. There had been no softness or genuine moments, merely frustration and anguish. "I've missed you," he whispers, and he hadn't realized how constricted his throat had felt until that moment. Spencer leans his forehead against his, their noses brushing together as his body trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles as their lips touch together in a gentle manner, soft and merely a press of lips, but far more meaningful than any other they had shared up till this point.

"There's no time to be sorry, Spence, just don't leave me again," he says, and Spencer knows he is not talking about being physically absent, but emotionally.

"I won't leave you, never again," Spencer promises, and his hands wrap tight around Derek's broad shoulders, fingers pressing into the skin there.

For a long time, they simply stand there, not saying a word.

Derek is almost too afraid to move or to say something else, too afraid to break this new found freedom they have both found for themselves. They chose to remain there for a while, arms tangled and strained from holding onto each other. Spencer's head rests upon his shoulder, breathing slower now than it had been before. A nightmare had started this, and a nightmare this had been, but Derek hoped that life would settle down for them; release them. Spencer peered up at him, a weary smile to his lips as he took in a deep, settled breath.

"I feel happy, again," he admits, lips pressing to the side of Derek's neck.

Derek places a finger under his chin, tilting his face to kiss his mouth. "Me, too."


End file.
